'You are aware,' Uncle Zoltan repeated, 'that ALL the Row Seven Elements — where the undiscovered elements lie — are highly radioactive and poisonous?'
Everyone who had handled Wilson's 'Elements' began glancing nervously at each other.
'Is that true?' Wilson demanded. 'I mean, is it REALLY true?'
Uncle Z nodded gravely.
W held his head in despair. After a moment's thought he announced, 'Okay, everyone who has come into contact with my new Element samples will have to wash their paws!'
'What, even YOU?' Antony asked in alarm.
'Yes, even me!' he replied somberly.
Polly took W up to the bathroom and made him stand on a stool to reach the wash basin, then watched him washing his paws to ensure he did it thoroughly...
While he waits to hear from the Editor of New Scientist, Wilson is researching suitably element-y names for his new Element.
Tiny Toy has accepted the fact that the chances of it being called 'Tinytoyite' are vanishingy small (although he did briefly harbour some hopes for 'TTanium') and has gone back to sleep. However, everybody else is taking a great interest in this part of the Research Programme.
The Johnson Brothers are both lobbying in favour of 'Johnsonite' while Antony is strongly in favour of 'Antonyum.'
W had just begged for some quiet because he couldn't think with all the racket and shouting going on, when Uncle Zoltan appeared.
Wilson groaned and muttered under his breath, 'Oh no — here comes the 'Zoltanium' campaign...' but in fact Uncle Z came bearing grave news.
'You are aware, I suppose,' he announced, 'that ALL the Row Seven Elements — where the undiscovered elements lie — are highly radioactive and poisonous?'
Having completed his search underneath and behind the cushions of the sofa, Wilson has moved on to rifle through the kitchen drawers in search of New Elements.
When I enquired how he was doing, he handed me what looked suspiciously like a piece of screwed-up tin foil (probably a chocolate wrapper) and a bit of fluff, and asked me what I thought.
When I replied, 'Hmmm. This looks like a piece of screwed-up tin foil (probably a chocolate wrapper) and a bit of fluff!' he snatched them back and popped them into an addressed envelope, saying, 'We'll just let the Editor of the New Scientist be the judge of that — as a lay person, you obviously don't have the necessary skills to pronounce on these discoveries!'
Then he added, 'Um, have you got a stamp for the letter?'
Antony was still manning the microscope but TT had long since decided that Cutting Edge Research is less exciting than it sounds and gone back to sleep...
Wilson is in the living room, looking for new 'missing' elements under the sofa.
He explained that everything that goes missing eventually turns up under the sofa — or down the back of the cushions, which will be his next move.
He has with him his Extra-Brite Military Grade LED Torch (an Xmas gift) and his microscope, plus a copy of 'The Periodic Table Of The Elements Colouring Book' which arrived this morning courtesy of Amazon Prime.
Antony is helping in the search too — it is his job to put any prospective 'elements' under the microscope and say sciency things. Things like, 'We could reverse the Flux Generator!' which will apparently encourage Wilson in his quest...
Wilson has been jolted out of his Frühjahrsmüdigkeit by yesterday's news that four new elements have been discovered.
'How hard can it be,' he reasoned, 'if they can find four all at once?'
Now he's in the kitchen with a plate of 'brain food' [cake] and a mug of strong coffee doing some research. I have to say that his research is less concerned with the process of discovery of new elements than with the cash value of a Nobel Prize.
'I shall call my new element "Wilsonium"' he declared proudly. 'Or possibly "Vermilinguite".'
In spite of heavy rain, I took down the outdoor Xmas decorations this morning. Wilson helped by watching me out the window and looking encouraging while I struggled to untangle the fairylights cord in the high winds.
Later I found him listening to the wireless in the dining room. Antony and TT were playing with one of W's Xmas presents — a snow globe inscribed 'Partly Cloudy With A Chance Of Ants' while Wilson framed another of his presents, a portrait of his hero Peter Dawson.
I could detect his aura of post-Xmas ennui, so I tried to cheer him up with some exciting news: I told him that someone he was very close to would be getting married this year!
'Is it my Mum, Mrs Vermilingua?' he asked. 'Oh, no, it'll be my Big Sister, Andrea! Whoever it is, they'll probably want me to be the best man!'
'No,' I replied, 'it's not one of your relatives, it's one of your friends — but I can't tell you who yet as it's still a secret!'
He immediately started making a list, the first item on it being: 'Go to Brighton to buy a New Hat!'
It has been raining heavily all day today, so I relented about the outdoor Xmas decorations — we've just taken down the indoor ones.
Once we'd got the Xmas Tree back into the loft and hoovered up the sparkles from the carpet, Wilson declared that he was 'totes exhausted.' I felt pretty much the same, so we both relaxed with a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. And ants.
While we were chatting, W confided that he was a bit disappointed by 2016 — so far it was no 'Merrier' than 2015 and, moreover, there was now nothing to look forward to until Easter...
